


Sticks Up Their Asses

by ToSeeAMarchingBand



Series: How NOT to Do Things [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An animal gets hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, FBI, Hostage Situations, It doesnt die, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, should I change the warning?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToSeeAMarchingBand/pseuds/ToSeeAMarchingBand
Summary: Philip Hamilton ABSOLUTELY does not want to move. But the stupid FBI is making him, for "safety reasons", so new town, new house, new school, new friends, new enemy. Philip quickly meets a kid, George Eacker, who unknowingly makes fun of Philip's father. This won't stand, and neither will Philip and Eacker's friendship. Until a turn of events that not even the FBI director could have predicted, leaves the two enemies questioning themselves, and each other.





	1. How NOT To Move Away

**Author's Note:**

> WOWOWOWOWOW I should work on my OTHER fic on Wattpad, instead of starting a new one... nah. ENJOY WEEKLY UPDATES

I absolutely did not want to move away from our house in the city. Dad thought it was “the best option for us right now”, but he’s just saying that because I was threatened or something. I don’t exactly know all the details, I just knew there are some people who were absolute morons on Twitter (and no I’m NOT talking about that businessman Trump. Glad he’s not my president…). The brief synopsis I received from Papa was that BASICALLY some kid at my school said he was going to “fucking murder Philip Hamilton’s face” (the grammar was lacking quite a bit, don’t be fooled by my father’s recap), so some people were called. Like the director of the FBI. Honestly my dad has no chill when it comes to my safety. Not that I can complain. I don’t exactly want to wind up dead at the ripe age of 17.

“Pip… come on downstairs, the movers are here” I heard dad call. I rolled my eyes and turned off my phone. Eston said that he kept a journal on his phone when he moved to a new town. “It helped keep me sane” were his exact words.   
Eston. I don’t want to leave him. He’s literally my best friend, and now I’m moving to a whole new school. A whole new city. 

“PHILIP” he calls again. Even though my dad has lived in New York for ages now, I can still hear traces of his southern accent in his voice. 

“I’m coming” I shout down, to the base of the stairs. I hear a scoff, and the shuffling of feet. A lot of feet. Apparently, moving away is a dangerous task, because all the movers here to pack our belongings, are actually FBI agents in disguise.   
They all have sticks up their asses, because “hey it’s important to protect two members of Washington’s Cabinet and their son”.

These guys honestly can’t relax. Once I tried to have this one girl race me in Mario Kart, I was like 9, but she totally ignored me, after looking at me like I’d grown a second head. 

Now that I look back at it, I’m fairly certain she was our legitimate mail lady, and not an agent in disguise. 

I stumbled down the steep staircase and looked around at the dozens of “movers” grumble as they try and fail to move our china cabinet, that Grandpa insisted on us having. “it was passed down from Jefferson to Jefferson” He was almost certainly lying through his teeth, but we kept it anyway.   
“Look who finally decided to show up” Pops said sarcastically, holding a cup of coffee and talking to Mr. Marks as I walked into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes.

“Hardee- har, pops.” I mumble, grabbing a doughnut from the open box on the counter. These were for all the ladies and gentlemen with the sticks up their butts, but nobody stopped me. As I was stuffing the powdered sugar covered pastry into my mouth, Pops continues talking to Marks. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to send him to a public school” Mr. Marks said wearily. Pops shrugged him off, and I giggled a bit, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of Dad yelling at the “movers” because they lost his supply of Kraft Mac and Cheese.   
Pops never listened to what people told him about stuff like this, especially when it came to me. He strongly believe I was a teen, and could do what I wanted. This time I wanted to go to a public school.

What humored me was pops not listening to the director of the fucking FBI. 

“Suit yourself, Hamilton. We’ll have to plant a few agents in there. Cafeteria workers. Janitors. Just as an extra precaution” he said, holding his chin and looking down like he was trying to figure out my Calc homework.

“Darlin we gotta go!” Dad shouted from the living room once the couch had been carried away into the van. People were bustling around everywhere, and had I been a claustrophobic person, this move would have been hell. I could see the house slowly clear out of the excess people, and it was just me, Pops, Dad, and Mr. Marks.

“Your agents were really excited to help us move out” Dad said jokingly, as he saw someone walk out the front door, their face contorted to a scowl. Marks let out a hearty chuckle, one that would have been expected of a big, burly man. Mr. Marks, on the other hand, was somehow rocking the look of “really short but positively shredded”  
That man is an inspiration to my pops, who drank too much coffee in his youth (it stunted his growth, and Dad never ceases to make fun of him about that). 

“Thanks Marks, but we’ll take it from here” Pops said, reaching for the keys that were sitting on the counter behind Mr. Marks. Marks gracefully turned around and grabbed the keys before Pops could even get near them.

“No way, Alexander. I’m driving” He promptly walked out of our kitchen, that wouldn’t be OUR kitchen for very much longer. I was suddenly hit with a wave of sadness. This was REAL. We were moving away from the home I had grown to know and love. The home where I was 9 and Aunty Eliza taught me French and piano. The home where I ran too fast in the living room when I was 6, and chipped my tooth on the fire place. The home where Dad came back after a long business trip, a briefcase in one arm, and a puppy in the other. Speaking of which-

“SEVEN!!!” I call out, as a large Golden retriever barrels down the stairs at the speed of light. “Holy sh-“ is all I can choke out before I’m tackled to the floor. I laugh and run my fingers through his light fur. He licked my face with his wet, slobbery tongue as I pet him.  
“You can grope the dog later, right now we need to leave” Pops interrupted me. I scoffed and rolled of the ground, Seven at my heels. 

“Let’s go, boy” I said, patting my thigh as I walked outside towards the SUV with a moving trailer in tow. I opened the back door, letting Seven jump in before I myself hopped inside, enjoying the AC.  
“It’s too hot out for a road trip” I mumbled, pulling my phone out again to start the journal Eston said I should look into. Pops scoffed from the passenger seat, as Dad hopped in next to me and Seven from the other door.

“It’s only an hour away, you’ll survive” Dad assured, buckling his seatbelt. The front door opened, as Mr. Marks hoped in the driver’s seat.

“You guys ready for 3 hours on the road?” He said with fake enthusiasm, as he pulled away from the driveway. The last time I’d probably EVER see that driveway, unless I looked it up on Google Earth or something.

“One of you guys are lying to me, and I hope to god it’s you, Marks” I said, pointing my phone in his direction in a threatening manner. It’s not exactly SMART to do that to a man of his immeasurable power, but haters gon’ hate.  
Nobody spoke up, meaning I was left in the dark on how long we’d be driving. I decided to take a nap instead of suffering.


	2. How NOT to Move In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pip makes a friend! yay!

When I woke up, 2 hours had passed, and we were still on the road. Stuck in traffic. It then occurred to me that Marks had actually accounted for traffic, when Dad just looked at the Maps results.   
“Are we there yet?” I asked in a childish voice, as Seven started licking my face, feeling me move. 

“Don’t you start” pops threatened, while looking down at the google maps pulled up on his phone. “We’re about half an hour away” He said, looking out the window at the new terrain. Not that he could see it that well. The car was surrounded on all sides by other agents.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad” I grumbled, upset that I had woken up with half an hour to spare. I got no response, and when I looked over to see why, I was caught with a surprise.

“Your father is asleep” pops said, placing his headphones in his ears. I sighed, and pulled Seven onto my lap.

“You’re the only one who loves me” I mumbled, petting his head. He panted a bit, and lied his head down on my chest. “Too bad you have the stamina of a small lizard”  
A horn honked outside, and I looked to see a kid on a bike, who almost got hit. From what I had seen, he got the right of way, and the car was in the wrong. I was bored, until the kid flipped the guy off. I laughed out loud, waking my dad up, and unbuckled my seatbelt. All the traffic was blocked up, meaning we were going at the same speed of a slow tortoise.  
I stepped outside the car, at Mr. Marks’s protest, and walked over to the kid on the bike. 

“Hello, I’m Philip” I said, looking down at him. He was trying to get the chain back on the track. “I admire your guts, and how you pissed off a person in a giant metal death trap that could murder you in an instant” He laughed at this, and stood up.

“I’m Georges Washington de Lafayette, also known as Georges. Or G” He said, reaching his hand out for me to shake. I gladly accepted. 

“Where do you go to school, G?” I asked, hoping it was mine, so I’m not completely alone when I start tomorrow. 

“I go to Congressional High” He said, turning his attention back to his bike, which was in desperate need of a professional fix. 

“What a coincidence, I’m starting there tomorrow” I said, smiling, because what are the odds, that thirty minutes away from my new house, I met someone going to the same school as I am?  
There was an obnoxious honk, turning my attention back to the street, where the traffic had cleared up. Mr. Marks had pulled up to the curb, and was furiously honking to get my attention.   
“I hate the FBI” I mumbled, walking to the car.

“What?” G said, looking at me like my face had suddenly just disappeared.

“Bye” I waved, and walked into the car, climbing over Dad (who was now awake), and next to Seven.

“I met a friend. He goes to Congressional” I said, trying to distract Pops from the oncoming lecture he was about to give.

“That’s awesome, Pip” Dad said, rubbing his race, trying to get the sleep from his eyes. I nodded, and we drove off.

About 20 minutes later, we pulled into a driveway. MY driveway now. The house was large, but not that big, because Pops was still self conscious about spending too much money.  
The walls were a beige stone, that was shiny and nice and new, and to the right of the house was a large fountain, and to the left, a small forest. On the roof, there was a wind direction indicator thing, shaped like a unicorn.

“I love this house more than you could possibly imagine” I said, walking up to the front door, Seven trotting by my side. Mr. Marks came and unlocked the door, swinging it open so Seven, Pops, Dad and I could all go in first. It was beautiful.  
The living room was like that from a lodge in the forest, with a large fireplace, and a bearskin rug on the floor. The kitchen was twice as large as our old one, and if I wanted to, I could definitely start a cooking show in there.  
The hallway leading to everything was wide and open, with a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Holy wow…” I mumbled, staring at everything as I slowly walked inside. The movers (agents) quickly shuffled around me, trying to get all our furniture placed and inside the house, before it takes too long, and it compromises our safety.  
“I thought moving was a mistake, but maybe not”   
I was so enamored by the house, that I didn’t notice when a mover kicked open the door too far.

I didn’t notice when Seven ran out of the house, because he saw a squirrel across the street.

I didn’t notice the car honk.

I didn’t notice Seven get hit by the car until it was too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Saturday!


	3. How NOT To Take Care Of Your Doggo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pip Pip's dog UH OH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to publish this sporadically now, because Saturdays seem to hate me? Last Saturday I had gotten back from a camping trip, and thus hadn't gotten a chapter done, and then yesterday I sprained my ankle... sooooo......

“SEVEN!” I cried, trying to get out of the door, to no avail. Mr. Marks had blocked the entry way, stopping my escape. Dad had run outside, to my dog.  
My dog was lying on the street.  
My dog was lying unmoving on the street.  
My dog was lying unmoving and bloody on the street.

“MY DOG!” I screamed, wanting desperately to get to him. The driver stopped and came out, trying to help Seven. Not that he knew Seven’s name. He didn’t know anything about the dog he hit. I got a glimpse of him, right before Mr. Marks slammed the door on my face, not letting me see the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

Dark skin. About my age. Unfeeling eyes.

“Seven…” I said, weakly, my energy suddenly dissipating, as I thought about what was to become of my precious dog. 

Marks picked me up, and carried me away to my new room. The movers had placed my bed inside, so when he placed me on it, and I curled up into a ball and sobbed, it didn’t feel like I was on a rock. 

“It’ll be ok kid” Marks said, walking out of my room and turning off the light. I stayed in my position for what felt like hours, but was in actuality, more like half of one. 

“Pip?” I heard from outside the door. Pops. He knocked, and then walked inside. “Seven is alive” I immediately jumped up at the news. My dog didn’t just die! He’s alive! He’s going to ok!

“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go now! I need to see my dog pops” I said, desperately trying to see Seven. 

“Well, Seven needs surgical care. They’re of course, going to give him the treatment, but you need to be there” He said, leading me downstairs to the car, where Seven was lying in the backseat. I got in the back, next to him. Dad and Pops got into the front. 

We started driving, the car in silence. I was softly petting Seven where I couldn’t see any blood. 

“The driver offered to pay, but I told him not to worry about it” Dad said, looking back at me, trying to see my reaction.

“I hope he burns in hell” I muttered, looking down at my miserable dog, who was now whimpering too. Pops sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“He goes to Congressional, you know” Dad said, trying to make conversation. “Tell me about your new friend” I sighed, not wanting to talk, but I knew Dad and Pops were the two most stubborn people alive.

I retold my experience of G, and how we exchanged numbers in the confusion as well. I then looked down at my phone, which I had forgotten about in the panic of Seven, and saw one text from Eston: 

I sure hope you made it to the house, because you haven’t texted, and I’m worried you died

I texted a quick reply, not going into details about Seven, just that there was a problem, and shut my phone off. I considered texting G, but decided against it, wanting to devote my full attention to Seven because we were pulling into the Animal Hospital parking lot. 

We rushed inside, and gave Seven to the doctors (reluctantly), and they took him back to the surgery room.

Waiting was anguish. I absolutely hated it. I was in constant fear for my dog’s life, and it didn’t help that there were other families coming in with their dogs, their perfectly happy, healthy, not bloody dogs. The minutes ticked by, until it was hours that slowly and agonizingly passed.

“Hamilton?” A nurse called, getting us out of the waiting area, and bringing us back to the room, where Seven was resting.

“Your dog pulled through excellently, and should heal quite quickly. You’re lucky the driver wasn’t going any faster” The doctor told us, sending a massive wave of relief flooding through me.

“Thank you, doctor” Pops said, as Dad went and picked up Seven. I nearly sprinted over to my dog, who was just barely awake. I put my hand in front of his face, and he sniffed weakly, letting his head fall back, and rest against Dad’s arms. 

“Oh Seven” I whispered, worried if I spoke any louder, everything would shatter. 

We all piled back into the car, trying not to disturb the dog, while we slowly drove off. I was so thankful that the doctor had saved his life. I sent a quick text to Eston, explaining what happened to Sev, and apologizing for not texting him immediately.

Next to me, Seven whimpered a bit in his sleep, and I leaned over and kissed him on the nose.

“It’s ok, Seven, everything is ok”

**Author's Note:**

> See you next Saturday!


End file.
